by Mary Stone
She still made no response. Maybe she was starting to learn. Maybe I should show her my temper more often, if that was what it took to keep her under control.
I pointed a finger at her. “You do not know what it is to have a father abandon his family.”
She lifted her chin. “I do understand. I was separated from my family while my father was in drug rehab.”
I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. She wasn’t starting to learn. She was just looking for new things to argue about.
“I don’t know why you consider that being separated,” I countered. “Your dad was ill, and your freaking mother was useless. It wasn’t your dad who let you down…it was your mother. Your dad did what he had to do to keep his family. And if that gives you more sympathy for what I’m saying, it sure don’t show.”
Her nostrils flared. “I—”
I stomped over to her, my footsteps shaking the floor. I didn’t stop until I was in her face and she was reared back, her eyes wide with fear. Good. That was good.
“You can’t seem to understand that there’s a difference between making sacrifices for your family and throwing it all away. You know what? Given how your mom fell to pieces and decided she was going to run loose and sleep around, and how your dad turned into a fraud who couldn’t even keep his family together, you were better off with Helen Mathers than you ever were with them.”
She turned her face slowly toward me. The mention of the woman who had fostered her had shocked her, I could tell.
“How do you know about Helen Mathers?” Her hands were shaking as she pushed her disheveled hair away from her face.
I took a step back but stayed close to intimidate her with my presence. “It’s not important. What’s important is that—”
“How do you know about Helen Mathers?” This time, her voice was much louder.
This was too much. Was this girl grateful for nothing?
I slapped her…hard. The sound of the contact echoed in the small room, and my palm stung from the connection.
It felt good.
They told you not to hit girls, but Gina Webster wasn’t a girl any longer. She was a woman. And sometimes, there wasn’t much else you could do with a woman who couldn’t get used to the idea that she had a place in life and couldn’t just run rampant.
“Do not raise your voice to me in this house.” I grabbed her by her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. “When I brought you here, I warned you that if you acted up, you would be punished. All you needed to do was stay calm and do what I told you. It isn’t hard. I don’t ask much.”
I dragged her along the floor to the small room where I’d been keeping her at night. I’d boarded up the window and any weak walls, replaced the door, and checked the doorframe to make sure it was strong enough. There was a foldout cot in the room with a jug of cold water and a pile of blankets. A toilet bucket with a lid stood in the corner, and a strong padlock waited on a heavy staple outside the new door.
“I’ll stop, I’ll stop!” she shouted as we came close to the room.
But I wasn’t the type of man who made empty threats.
I pushed her into the room, hard enough to make her fall down. I didn’t want her trying to jump up and get back out of the room before the door closed. That was a good way to get your fingers jammed.
Slamming the door, I held it shut tight as I locked it. Gina Webster was up off the floor in about a second, trying to turn the handle and open the door. I closed the hasp on the lock. I had set it up so the door wouldn’t budge once it was locked, no matter how much she pulled on it. I stepped back and waited, and after a couple minutes of struggling with the handle, the jiggling stopped.
“Please let me out! Please! I’m sorry I pissed you off!”
When that didn’t work, she threw herself at the door, kicking and scratching at the surface. I heard her flip the cot off the floor and start trying to dig at the door with the cot frame.
I sighed. Women weren’t quite what you’d call fully human. They were wild animals. If you didn’t believe me, just wait to see what happened if you stepped too close to a little kid. You could tell who the mother was by watching which one was going to tear out your throat.
I shook my head. It was time to lock her up for the night anyway. Otherwise, she would just start asking for a light. Maybe some day soon, she’d start asking for something else…me. I was looking forward to that moment, when she begged me to hold her, kiss her. More.
Climbing the narrow, wobbling steps up to the loft, I pulled my bag out of its hiding spot above the rafters. I got out the burner phone. Gina had me at my wits’ end.
It was time to make a call.
7
Helen Mathers sat down at her kitchen table with a hot cup of tea, her bones creaking more than her chair did. Her muscles had been stiff all day, and one of her hips seemed to have a catch in it. Each step was a reminder that time was starting to catch up with her.
After a day taking care of both her own foster kids and coaching other foster parents through their problems, she deserved a moment to sit down and rest.
She was so tired that she could only stare down into her tea as her mind wandered.
Helen Mathers’s house had always been a home. She was proud of that.
It was battered but clean. The walls had been patched and repainted so many times that they had taken on the texture of skin pocked by long-ago scars. If the furniture wasn’t pretty or expensive, at least it was in good repair.
More importantly, her treatment of the children was strict but fair.
It was a hard life, as any new foster parent soon learned. The number of sobbing parents that Helen had had at her kitchen table, telling her that they hadn’t understood just how hard it would be, numbered in the dozens.
Helen was there for them, just as she was there for her kids.
She told them that they had made a promise to their foster kids, and that they were not allowed to break that promise, either to a child or to their spouse. That was important too. Helen had never been lucky in love again after the death of her husband. But while he had lived, they had been happy together. They had only just taken on their first foster when he had passed, leaving her and the child behind.
It had only been the thought that she could not let her foster child down that had kept her going through the motions. Some days, she had only eaten because she had another mouth to feed.
Promises had to be kept or else they weren’t promises in the first place.
Helen blinked. She had drifted off in thought. It had been her first real moment to sit down that day. Supper—salmon burgers, broccoli, and white rice—was on the stove, the house was clean, and all the little emergencies of the day had been handled.
School was still out for winter break, though, so her kids, all four of them, were underfoot. And you never knew when some new situation would arise.
At the moment, she had two sixteen-year-old girls, Ashley and Lisa, a thirteen-year-old, Nicholas, and a twelve-year-old, Benji. Ashley, her newest, was her toughest case. The girl had been through a hard life and had only recently come to the house. Helen kept that in mind.
But some days, it was difficult.
Lisa was starved for love and went along with whatever Ashley did, which made it doubly important to keep Ashley under control. Nicholas was one of those thoughtful boys who liked discipline and regularity. Helen wouldn’t exactly say that he was a child of her own heart, but they certainly saw eye to eye on most things. Benji was her little angel. He was one of those poor creatures who was too good for this world.
The first thing Ashley had done when she came to the house was tell Benji that he was a fool and break one of his toys. The poor dear had spent the next two nights weeping because the girl didn’t like him, and he wanted to know what he’d done wrong. Leaving Benji alone was the first lesson that Ashley’d had to learn. And it had been a painful one.
Helen stood up and stretched. It was time to do somet
hing, even if it was wrong.
As if on cue, the phone on the wall rang. She walked over to it, saw the caller ID on the little LED screen over the handset, and frowned.
“You know you aren’t supposed to call here. The line might not be safe.”
The voice on the other end was almost crying. “I did everything you said to do, but she doesn’t seem to be grateful.”
Helen shook her head. He had not done everything she had said to do. She had told him not to call except in an emergency.
Fortunately, she recognized the call for what it was. Whether he knew it or not, he was acting just like one of her new foster parents. He had just taken on the care of another human being, whether he’d planned to or not. And human beings were rarely grateful for the work you did for them. It was not a surprise that Gina Webster was not making things easy for him. It was just human nature at work.
Just as it was human nature for a new foster parent to panic.
“Sweetheart, it takes time for someone to become attached to you.”
“But I thought—”
“This is different.” Helen interrupted him before he could work himself into more of a panic. “You have to think of it like you’re her foster parent now. You are in charge of her care. You have taken on a burden that you cannot put down. Just because neither of you is enjoying yourself at the moment doesn’t mean the work isn’t worthwhile, or that you won’t come to appreciate the situation in the future. You are doing the right thing. In time, she will come to understand what you have done. It may take the examples of the other children to help ease her mind. When she sees how much of a burden has been taken off their shoulders, she will realize how much a burden she was relieved of herself.”
Helen relaxed as he took a deep breath and let it go.
The back door banged, and the two girls ran in, laughing loud enough to pierce her ears. Ashley tore through the kitchen, swerving around the table and ducking behind it. Lisa followed her, moving less nimbly, and knocked one of the chairs askew.
Lisa tried to make a mean face, but it wouldn’t hold. She was smiling as she yelled, “I’m going to get you for doing that!”
Ashley shrieked with laughter. “I’d like to see you try!”
“Girls!” Helen snapped. Into the phone she added, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to go.”
She hung up. There wasn’t anything else that needed to be said at the moment, anyway. He had a job to do, and a promise to keep. In his heart, he truly understood that, even if he did need a moment’s reassurance now and then.
But more than a moment wouldn’t help him learn.
These girls were a more immediate problem.
When Helen had snapped at the girls, Lisa had frozen, and Ashley had plowed into her, almost knocking her over. The two girls were now standing near the living room door, waiting to see what Helen had to say to them.
Helen’s temper was on the very edge of snapping. “Girls, you need to show some manners. You know the rules. There will be no running, and you will not raise your voice to anyone in this house. Otherwise, you’ll go without dinner. This is your last warning.”
Lisa’s face fell. Ashley’s expression said she was still too rebellious to settle down. Helen sighed inwardly. It was going to be one of those days.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Helen.” Lisa sounded truly apologetic. “I shouldn’t have run into the kitchen. It’s all my fault. I knew better.”
Ashley didn’t say a word of apology. Her jaw jutted out, and Helen’s face heated up.
She walked over to the two girls and reached up to put a hand on both their heads, as if they were little children. Lisa’s head sank under her touch. Ashley’s stayed proudly erect on her stubborn neck.
Helen’s gaze darkened as she peered at the girls. “Worthy parents never adopt children who behave badly.”
It was something she said to all her kids.
Tears shown in Lisa’s eyes. She was clearly ashamed of herself. She had just been over-excited and forgot herself for a moment.
Ashley shook Helen’s hand off her head. “What do you even know about being a parent? You’ve never actually had a child of your own. Just us. And look at the way you treat us.”
Helen’s temperature rose several degrees. She was no spring chicken, but the day she didn’t have it in her to control a difficult child, she would stop taking fosters.
“Young lady…” She stopped herself, hearing the strain of anger in her voice. She was so angry that she was about to truly lose her temper. And she had long since learned that neither she nor the children responded well to a truly angry word.
She took a deep breath. This rebellious child would not get under her skin. She would let the anger pass and show the child the error of her ways later.
“Young lady, after supper, you will face the consequence of those poisonous words. And you will also be missing supper. Lisa, set the table, unless you would like to join her. Ashley, stand in the corner.”
For a moment, the two girls didn’t move. Helen wasn’t worried that they wouldn’t obey her. She reminded herself that she had fostered worse kids and had helped them through this phase. That was all this was: a phase. Almost any child could be taught to cooperate. Certainly, all her children had learned to find their place in the world.
It was all for their own good. Once you knew what was expected of you, you could survive just about anything.
After a scant moment in which Helen kept any expression from crossing her face as she stared at the two girls, Lisa moved toward the table and picked up Helen’s cold cup of tea.
“Would you like some hot tea, Mrs. Helen?”
“I would.” Helen stared pointedly at Ashley. “Thank you, dear.”
Lisa put on the kettle.
Ashley stared back at Helen for another good few seconds before the rebellious streak came to an end. The girl glanced at Lisa before walking over to the corner and standing stock-still.
Helen nodded, but she didn’t even have time to bask in satisfaction when the smell of burned salmon filled the room. She took a deep breath and walked to the stove, lifting the lids. The salmon patties had been in the pan too long. She turned off the burner and moved them. They weren’t too badly burned, but they had dried out.
“Supper isn’t quite ruined, thanks to you,” she told the girls, “but it’s close. You should both be ashamed of yourselves. Lisa, call the boys.”
Lisa’s eyes glistened again. “I’ll make them some peanut butter sandwiches.”
“That’s thoughtful of you, but no. I want you all to understand that when one of you acts up, it can have consequences for everyone around you. It’s a valuable lesson to learn.”
A movement caught her eye, and Helen spied Ashley making a mocking face and mouthing the words she’d just said.
She stared Ashley full in the face and was secretly pleased as her skin went white.
The boys came in, and Lisa served them all. Helen instructed Ashley to turn around and watch as the others enjoyed their meals. She even set a place for Ashley, an empty plate she would later wash up just as though Ashley had eaten off it.
The boys ate without complaint. Benji even sweetly complimented Helen on her cooking, as he always did, every night. The salmon wasn’t that bad, after all, with a little mayonnaise adding some needed moisture.
Ashley watched silently from the corner, waiting for the end of the meal. Each time Helen looked her way, the girl’s face went pale. Good. Let her contemplate what was coming for her later.
Some children did not understand the lessons that Helen had to teach. At first, at least.
But, with time, they all learned.
8
One of the more interesting things that had happened to Justin since his arrest was meeting lawyers for the first time. They were interesting. It was like meeting with a lion that had been forced to wear a suit.
His public defender, Victor Goren, reminded him of an old, fat lion, its fur patchy, its eye
s wary of the whip. Goren also had an obsession with ties. As far as Justin could remember, he hadn’t worn the same one twice. They were all lame.
Justin had begun to compliment the man on his ties, just to see the brief flash of pleasure on the asshole’s face. It wasn’t that Justin wanted, or needed, to please Goren. He just liked pushing buttons. All of them.
Pleasure
Anger
Guilt
Uncertainty
Pain
Justin was looking forward to pushing the last one. Now was not the time, though. Not yet.
The visitation room was bare cement and a heavy octagonal table with four built-in metal stools attached to it. The table was bolted to the floor. Detention centers were big on bolting everything to the floor.
Justin wasn’t as securely attached to his seat as he had been in the other visitation room with Autumn Trent. Apparently, they trusted him more with fat old lions than with pretty girls. Now, he had only a simple pair of handcuffs with a length of chain between them. He wasn’t even handcuffed to the table, and there was nothing on his feet at all.
The guards were experimenting with the idea that they could “trust” him.
Justin had no intention of acting like the sloppy animals that surrounded him. His intent was to take the long view: escape. He didn’t need to struggle against the restrictions of the detention center unless doing so would produce the desired result.
Freedom.
Victor Goren walked into the private visitation room wearing a blue-and-white tie featuring red three-dimensional shapes: spheres, cones, and cubes. “Hello, Justin.”
Goren never called him “Mr. Black.” This suited Justin just fine. He would rather have the man looking down on him, underestimating him.
“Hello, Mr. Goren,” Justin said. “I like your tie.”
“You often like my ties.”
Justin was amused at the observation. It had taken the man nine fake compliments to notice the pattern, or at least to comment on it.